


Dave and Terezi: Go To Second Base

by TeamMeowrail



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Homophobic Language, Interspecies, Ironic Sexist Language, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamMeowrail/pseuds/TeamMeowrail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Terezi has above her skinny ribs a set of pecs as lean and sharp as the rest of her. It was like if Todd McFarlane made Ken dolls.</p>
<p>Dave Strider's too cool to suffer homosexual panic. That shit's for rednecks and frat boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dave and Terezi: Go To Second Base

Dave Strider knew for the past five years that Terezi had no tits, but it wasn't until she has her shirt over her head that Dave Strider realizes that Terezi has absolutely no tits. It wasn't that she's flat-chested, it was that she's flat-chested. Words failed him. It wasn't a mere failure of breasts to develop, what Dave is looking at now is a Boob Existence Failure. All Terezi has above her skinny ribs a set of pecs as lean and sharp as the rest of her. It was like if Todd McFarlane made Ken dolls.

Dave Strider's too cool to suffer homosexual panic. That shit's for rednecks and frat boys.

"Nervous, coolkid?" Terezi's beaming at him with her razor grin. Topless Terezi doesn't look awkward in the least, as if she's always prepared to get naked any time the situation requires it. Which she probably is, now that he thinks about it. His dying erection perks backs to life, only to deadline again when he sees she has absolutely no hips. He already knew she had no curves, dammit. His hands remembered the straight, sure lines of her body. So why it is he freaking out like this now?

A fresh batch of sweat cracks over his face and sticks to his sunglasses. He thinks that maybe when you decide to go to second base with a hyperactive crazy gray-skinned space babe, you should first figure out if she's the male of her species. Before things get awkward.

"Hey Terezi, I have a totally unimportant question. An utterly trivial inquiry. Just an idle thought, really. But maybe we could stop what we're doing for just a second so you sate my serial-cat killing curiosity here." 

Yeah, this isn't awkward at all. Terezi blinks. Maybe. It's hard to tell through the shades. They are both topless and wearing shades, which would probably look pretty fucking stupid if this wasn't the two most badass motherfuckers left in existence. "Are you the female of your species?"

"Are you?" Terezi says, prodding his nipple. Her mouth quirks into a question mark. He has no clue how the hell she does that. "Maybe you're some kind of musclebeast? You have these cute tiny udders." She prods his nipple again for emphasis. Dave is too cool to blush. Much.

"Yes. I'm a cow," Dave says, brushing her hand away. "Moo."

"What's a cow?"

"It's like a musclebeast but not as dumb and homoerotic. We kept them as slaves for their milk." 

"Is that so?" She smirks, grabs his nipple, and pulls. When his nipple doesn't shower her with the expected torrent of cool and refreshing coolkid juice, she frowns and pulls harder. Apparently she doesn’t know that a nipple is a thick cluster of nerves attached to a living being and not the knob on a faucet. She's like one of those kids that stands there and slaps the crosswalk button twenty or thirty times if it doesn't start flashing "Walk, Dumbass".

He bats her hand away before she pulls the damn thing off.

“I’m all out today. Had a big breakfast and needed some extra milk on my Cheerios. Try again tomorrow.”

“I’m a girl, Dave.” When she smiles it’s like her mouth slashes open. “And I want you to show me this ‘dick’ that you keep referring to.”

“Like you haven’t already been sniffing it in through my skinny bitch jeans.”

“Yesssss. It smells like cotton candy and cherries.” She licks her lips like a shark, if sharks actually had lips to lick. And long and sexy tongues. His bizarre and generically exotic reproductive anatomy should be shrinking, and possibly finding some escape route inside his body, at the thought of her razor-filled mouth coming anywhere near it. But it’s not. Quite the opposite, in fact. Apparently he’s been cursed with a suicidal slim reaper. Or at least an ironic one. In another timeline he probably lost his virginity to pencil sharpener.

Dave shrugs. Such is life, and sex with crazy space babes.

But his hand stopped just shy of the first button of his skinny bitch jeans. If he had to show her his, that meant she was probably going to show him hers. Except for trolls “hers” was probably something out of those fucked up Japanese pornos with exploding nurses and spike dildo snakes. He had no clue how troll anatomy worked. All he knew about was nooks, buckets, and grubs, and matespirits or not, he wasn’t just ready for that level of commitment and responsibility. It was one thing to be a father and a few million other things to be the progenitor of a new race of half-troll half-human flirty spazwads and insufferable pricks.

The only possible answer to this riddle of exactly-how-gay-is-this was in her pants. He was pretty sure he’d be slapped in the face with twenty ten-mile long tentadickacles. spring-loaded into those too-tight pants of hers. His dick, tired of conflicting stage directions from his brain, just decided to throw its hands up and leap off the stage with a hammy huff.

“Hey Terezi, you know that John wanted to have a Batman marathon tonight? All the Batmans, every last one. Even that piece of shit Batman and Robin with the nipple armor. But anyway, you’d be able to watch The Dark Knight Returns again, so I thought...” 

==TurntechGodhead [TG] began pestering TentacleTherapist [TT]==  
hey rose  
its none of my business and doesnt even really matter  
hell I don't even really care at all, dont know why its coming up  
im sure that you and kanaya sit and hold hands and stare meaningfully into each others eyes  
chatting about charles berkely and chainsaws listening to Indigo Girls while you knit her some stylish horn cozzies  
that its all very spiritual and shit  
brings mantears to my eyes just thinking about it  
and nothing else happens  
but  
fuck i don't know how to say this without sounding creepy  
because youre my paradox sister and everything but anyway  
i honestly never got that whole obsession with watching girls kiss  
probably because for 13 years i was getting my ass beaten with puppets daily  
and it prevented me from developing a non-dick-obsessed sexuality  
but how far have you gone with her  
like first base second base third base  
except isnt third base like fourth base for lesbians  
or outfield or bleachers or whatever  
fuck i dont know im screwing up the one sports metaphor that i actually sort of understand  
look dont you two make dresses and shit for each other  
so youve seen her in her underwear at least  
if trolls even wear underwear but anyway  
so  
can you tell me if terezi has  
shit shit shit  
talk about a freudian finger slip  
jegus  
you must be loving this  
where the hell are you rose  
youre with her right now arent you  
drinking tea and doing more knitting and  
whatever the fuck else space lesbians do and  
your buckets are tucked deep in the grimdark corners of your closets  
gathering enough dust bunnies to make up the cast one of those disgustingly uncool shows Jade likes  
I am sorry for the delay Dave.  
fuck there you are  
I hope you can forgive me. But you see, when I got your message I immediately dropped by needles and have been preoccupied with inspecting Kanaya ever since. I am putting down her dress as we speak, straightening out the folds of her skirt tenderly, all while a Melissa Ethridge CD plays in the background.  
okay yeah because your totally just going to me tell be without being all mysterious and shit  
theres going to be straightforward photographs and diagrams  
arrows lots and lots of arrows  
books with titles like  
the complete fucking morons guide to troll junk  
everything you wanted to know about troll sex but were too utterly terrified to ask  
how fuck a trolls brains out  
by rose lalonde  
Are you interested to know the results of my inspection?  
no not really  
sound kinda boring  
I have no doubt you’ll be pleased and relieved to know that everything appears to be in fine working order.  
rose just tell me cmon  
If you’ll be willing to indulge me, and I’m certain you will since I have enough leverage here in this situation that you’ll listen to me for pretty much as long as I want you too, I’d like to draw your attention to something.  
are you going to try to pull more of your  
psychoanalyst bullshit  
because if you are im not going to sit there and let you tell me im afraid of my love of dicks or something  
What nonsense. We both know that you are completely at peace with your sexuality.  
But nevertheless I find it interesting that in the entire time we have known the trolls that you have never, even once, had even a fleeting thought to take the time to educate yourself on the finer details of the troll reproductive cycle.  
You never had this thought, not even after you developed mating fondness for a troll, and she for you.  
who the fuck was i supposed to ask  
hey karkat whats with the buckets  
i need to know so i can have sex with your ex  
THE COMPLETE FUCKASS GUIDE TO BANGING TEREZI  
by karkat vantas  
its autographed and everything  
Dave, there is someone who could tell everything you need to know, and probably far more than you need to know, about how to properly go about expressing you mating fondness for Miss Pyrope is far closer to you and willing to cooperate with you than you think.  
who is this mysterious tutor  
i simply cannot stand the suspense here  
You know her quite intimately.  
im not a mind reader rose just tell me  
But apparently, not intimately enough.  
its not an option  
Why?  
its just not  
hey tz im sorry you arent cleared for third base yet  
you are carrying suspicious baggage  
im afraid im going to have to dump all your shit out  
pull you out of the line  
and inspect your valuables with drug dogs  
black lights and white gloves  
if you want to fly strider airlines  
So you’re afraid that by asking Terezi about her anatomy, you’re somehow showing that you don’t trust her?  
no its just a  
uh  
a mood killer  
jegus how did I get myself into this  
this must be making up for all the awkward moments we missed not growing up together like normal nonparadox siblings  
That’s a fascinating theory.  
I’m inclined to agree with it.  
Have you considered bringing up the subject when things were, how can I say this, less impassioned? I don’t know Terezi as well as you, but I’m under the impression that sexual modesty isn’t among the virtues she cultivates.  
what the hell rose  
are you callng my matespirit a slut  
No. Aside from what information that I cannot help but glean from this conversation, I am completely in the dark about sexual habits of Terezi. To be frank and a little crude, I wouldn’t care if she had ten humans and ten trolls in each reproductive quadrant, if such a thing was possible.  
I do not assign morality to consensual sexual behavior. I do not find it either laudable or vile.  
I simply do not care.  
What I am saying is that Terezi probably wouldn’t hesitate to tell you. Her anatomy is completely normal and mundane to her, as it should be. It doesn’t appear, at least to her, to be a source of embarrassment or shame. I suspect she’s been trying to tell you for some time, and you’ve been avoiding the issue because of your own embarrassment and fear.  
yes please please please keep saying things  
use big words and be cryptic  
keep saying lots of things that dont answer my question  
your like my sex sprite or  
or something okay something that doesn’t sound paradoxically incestuous  
so youre saying i have to do the work myself  
yeah this wasnt a huge waste of time  
Oh, and Dave?  
yeah  
By now your troll companion should have provided you with a... special truss.  
Wear it.  
== TentacleTherapist [TT] has signed off. ==  
rose  
rose what truss  
fuck

HUM4NS H4V3 UDD3RS!!!!!  
They Are Used In Feeding Their Hatchless Young  
Y3S 1 KNOW HOW MUSCL3B34STS WORK. GIV3 M3 4 L1TTL3 CR3DIT.  
1T’S JUST W31RD!  
H3 D1DN’T G1V3 4NY M1LK THOUGH.  
The Males Of The Species Have Only Vestigial Udders  
They Do Not Produce Milk  
S4D.  
I Do Not Understand How You Have Not Learned This Yet  
It Simply Makes No Sense  
If You Had Taken A Moment To Observe Any Other Citizen of Earth You Would Learn Much About The Human Reproductive Cycle  
1 WAS KIND OF D1STR4CT3D 4T TH3 TIM3.  
Well Humans Prefer To Refer To Them As “Breasts”.  
Although I Found Them Rather Strange At First They Do Have Their Own Kind of Beauty  
And They Make Making Dresses Much More Complicated. But I Do Enjoy A Challenge  
K4N4Y4  
J3GUS  
What  
YOU 4R3 SUCH 4 FR34K!!!!  
I 1OV3 IT.  
>;]

tz wheres my special trollsex floatation device  
W3 DON’T N33D ON3.  
so you admit it exists  
its my first time come on  
YOU C4N H4NDL3 1T COOLK1D. 1’V3 S33N HOW F4ST YOU C4N RUN!  
running  
what  
>;]

Dave Strider’s a guy and he’s barely eighteen and that means he’s supposed to be thinking about sex all the time, popping boners like they’re bubble wrap. He’s supposed to be thinking about sex all the time, especially when he’s not having it, which is actually most of the time in spite of Terezi’s best efforts. Which should mean that if he’s not actually the most badass homo in the universe in addition to his other impressive titles, he should have remembered to ask Terezi to give him the trollsex tutorial.

Amazing what can slip your mind. Amazing how the Knight of Time can lose track of the thing that’s supposed to be his special snowflake power.

One minute he’s arguing with John about Matthew McConney and the next his wrists are trapped under Terezi’s cane, behind his back, well maybe not exactly trapped, maybe trapped is too strong a word, but maybe actually trapped accidentally on purpose like a suicidal mouse that is pretending really really hard that he actually think thinks he can actually outwit the mousetrap because he saw it in the movie once.

Or something.

Speaking of something, Dave feels like he’s forgetting something, and then Terezi’s nightmare teeth are grazing his throat and there’s nothing in the Incipisphere but her breath and his blood, her bones and his nerves.

It would maybe almost be sort of hot if he wasn’t scared shitless that she’d devour him and puke up little grubs with his face on them. But Dave’s dick is reaching new levels of irony previously unheard of across space and time.

It’s kind of embarrassing when you have to work catch up with your cock in the Coolkid Olympics.

“You don’t have to be so rough,” Dave says, “I’m not Vriska.”

“I told you it wasn’t like that,” Terezi hisses in between nipping at his throat. The cane pushes a little harder, and the metal bites into his wrists. Terezi pauses. The cane eases off, the teeth vanish. He can’t see her face, but he can hear the grin in her voice. “Heeheehee. You almost got me there. You know, Dave, if you want me to hurt you, you only have to ask.”

There’s still this forgotten thing in his head that won’t go away, sharp and scratchy and urgent, like an itch that’s actually inside his balls so can he can’t figure out how scratch it. Or something. Something about Rose?

Uh. No. Ew. Not even ironically.

“Hey now, TZ, that’s not fair.”

“Oh really?”

“Talk about double standards. I bet your kismesister didn’t have to ask.”

“I told you -” Terezi’s cane swings down and taps the back of his knees, bamp-bamp, and his legs collapse under him, “ -it wasn’t like -” he’s sprawled out on the floor, and she starts swatting his ass, bamp-bamp-bamp, like it’s Singapore and he’s just been caught tagging the grocery store with some sick rhymes, “-that!”

He’s totally not enjoying this. He’s got to say something. Really. Soon. Before she decides to put him through her creepy dragon role-play bullshit and put him on trial for being such a sexy coolbeast. There’s no way he’d be able to put together a defense, he’s so obviously guilty as charged -

And then very important thought shakes loose from the musty folds of his brain. It’s louder than Terezi’s cane, cooking his ass so thoroughly they may as well serve it as the main course of Troll Christmas dinner. It’s clearer than his freshly-minted fantasy of Terezi the Sexecutioner which is completely and truly ironic without the slightest trace of sexual sincerity in it whatsoever.

“TZ!” But she can’t hear him, or maybe she doesn’t want to hear him. “Hey TZ, c’mon, I get it, you –” Shit, they don’t have, what the hell did Rose call it, a safeword. Whatever, it’s not like you need that unless she’s got a fucking bull whip or a three-pronged dildo or something. He’ll have to settle for non-verbal communication. He flips over, his roasted rump still stinging, the stitching of his jeans and hard floor suddenly tortuous to his butt. 

“Dave, how rude! I wasn’t done.”

“I was. You could have stuck a fork in me, and no, you don’t get to take that literally, Judge Spanksalots. I need to see your junk. Your parts. Your bits. Your bone bulge or shame globes or whatever the fuck it is you use to fuck.

“I can’t promise I’ll like it. I can’t even promise, even knowing that I don’t know what I’m in for, that I’m not going to run to the little boy’s room and puke like that asshole in The Crying Game. But I can promise that I think that you’se a sexy bitch, even if you’re pretty much batshit insane, and that’s more important to me than your junk.”

“We had a saying on my planet, coolkid. It was called ‘quid pro quo’, and it means -”

“Please enlighten this ignorant human all about Latin, which is a bizarre alien language that I’ve have never heard of.”

Dave congratulates himself on thinking of ironic retorts when an attractive woman offers to take her clothes off – it shows he places irony above all earthly distractions. He should really just go find himself a half acre of meteor and build a little ironic one-man Irony Monastery, The Order of Saint Bro, ironically.

“You had Latin, orange creamiscles, and cotton candy?”

“It’s amazing how many how many similarities our species have. You’d never guess that Earth was secretly just a pisspoor copyright-violating knockoff of Alternia made in Troll China. It simply boggles the mind.”

“Shush! I am trying to have a tender moment here and you are ruining it. ”

“I think I’m tender enough after what you did to my ass, thanks. Maybe you should save all that tenderness for next time you cuddlepile with Maryam?”

Terezi’s mouth drops open.

“I am not trying to have a feelings jam with you! How could you even suggest such a thing?”

“Like this ‘I am suggesting that you want to have friendsex with me instead of the kind of sex that requires cleaning equipment’.”

“The quadrants are there for a reason, not you could ever really understand. I am not that kind of troll.”

“And I’m definitely not the kind of human that can get a handle on the concept of friendsex and hatesex and whatever the hell hey-don’t-go-having-hatesex-sex is after five fucking years. No, I can’t even put my slippery feeble human fingers around it without leaping out of my hand.”

“Do you want to be a smartass, or do you want to be quid pro quoing?”

“Don’t really see why it has to be one or the other,” he mumbles, fumbling with his belt as Terezi goes to work unlacing her shoes.

Shirts fall off, shoes and socks disintegrate, and pants pile around ankles. Dave finds out that trolls do indeed wear underwear. White boxers-brief type things with the quadrants on them, to be exact. Dave’s in no position to complain about taste, with the heat he’s packing in his Spongebob Squarepants underoos. Although he bets she isn’t wearing her skivves with nearly as much irony as he wears his. He plays weird tricks with his eyes so he’s looking and not looking, not able make out any definite shapes in the snug fabric. 

Dave slips a finger under the waistband of his undies like a gunslinger touching the handle of his gun. Terezi smirks and snaps her own waistband.

“Now Dave I want to say in the name of multicultural understanding that I really do appreciate your ‘breasts’, even if they do not produce milk!”

“Breasts?” Dave cups his pecs defensively. “I know I’ve been letting myself go a bit since we got together, but you could be a little kinder about it. I’m going to have to eat a quart of chocolate ice cream sprinkled with tears now.”

“They aren’t breasts? But Kanaya said – ”

Dave is too cool to ever say it but he wishes that Terezi would be a little less fascinated with his nipples and little more impressed with the rest of him - if him and John played shirtless-yet-not-gay football it would be a fucking Abercrombie and Finch commercial.

“I don’t care what Maryam said. The only human anatomy that she’s an expert on is the anatomy of one Rose Lalonde, and that wouldn’t even qualify her to be a gynecologist at a free clinic. I know you’re blind and everything, but I know damn well you can smell, and these are pecs. 

“Here’s how this goes down. I’ll drop mine. You’ll drop yours. Slow is the key thing here. And now I don’t mean some slow-motion bullshit where the sounds all distorted and shit. Not like snails making love on a glacier. More like snailfucking on a glacier, you know? That kind of slow, where it’s –“

“Dave.”

“No sudden movements –“

“Dave –

“ -Of any kind, of any part of your body. Fucking serious here.”

“Dave! Show me your internal fertilization equipment already!”

And which point Dave decides do something crazy like show Terezi his dick. Terezi smirks contemplatively, how the hell do you even do that, but she’s just standing there smiling like she’s thinking about what kind of topping to put on it. Terezi’s thumbs stretch and fiddle with her waistband, not nervous, not shy, just slow and sure. She giggles and he suddenly wishes that he hadn’t been quite so adamant about the whole speed thing. It’s like a strip tease meets Monty Hall meets Indiana Jones and the Holy Grail, he doesn’t know if he’s getting a donkey or God shoving his almighty fist down his throat. He feels like his dick is holding its breath – he even swears it’s turning a little blue around the tip. After a short sort of forever she shakes her boxers off of those bony unhips to show him her -

Her –

Her –

“Well? Are you going to puke now?” She asks, sounding a little too excited by the idea, no doubt imaging all the half-digested colors about to burst out of him.

“Nah, it’s cool. I only vomited a little. In my mouth.”

“Stop trying to be so cool, Coolkid.” She points to his dick. “I know you like it.”

“Yes, I’m completely digging your mystery meat. This is some avant garde stuff right here. Dada, even. It challenges and redefines my understanding not only my own sexuality,” Dave takes a deep breath, holds it, and on the exhale snaps his shades off his face, “but my also my very understanding of sex. This is some deep shit.” Normally nothing was worth possibly compromising his ironic coolkidness, not even sex, but sometimes, you really had to actually see what you were looking at with your freaky pink eyes. “Wanna tell me how to drive this thing or do I have to figure it out by myself?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Dave: Lose Third-Person Limited Control Of The Narration This Instant =>

Suffice it to say that troll reproduction is pretty complicated! Without getting TOO MUCH INTO THE DETAILS they went pretty far. Like most first times, it was pretty awkward, with the awkwardness quotient quadrupled by this being both parties first experience with generically bizarre alien anatomy. Misunderstandings were inevitable. Mistakes were made. Injuries occurred.

“Did I blow your mind, coolkid?“

“You blew something,” Dave whimpered, ”like, maybe my eardrums. My head is still ringing.”


End file.
